“Television in the bedroom?” he asked, turning to head down a small hallway.
He paused outside the single door at the end and peeked into my bathroom. My heartbeat kicked up a notch when he closed his eyes and drew in a breath, forming a thin line with his lips. The fact that my whole studio apartment could fit into Mason’s bathroom was a shock to him.
“Sammy…” he whispered, the single word rife with pity.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Of all the reactions I was prepared for, pity wasn’t one of them. Walking up from behind, I slipped my arms around him for a bear hug. He was here and he wasn’t freaking out. Yet. But I knew my brother well enough to know that turmoil was roiling in his gut.
“I’m happy here,” I said, snuggling my cheek against his broad back.
“How can that be true?” He turned in my arms and glared down. “Are you done yet making your point? Say yes so we can get the hell out of here. I can have the jet ready within the hour.”
My body stiffened and I stepped back. Was that why he had come? To drag me home?
“Come home with me,” he pleaded. His voice cracked under the pressure and I knew—knew with certainty he hadn’t come with the intent on dragging me home. His reaction was too raw. Holding my hands, he gave them a little shake. “You don’t have to live this way.”
I jerked away from his hold and strode into the living room, plopping down on my favorite chair. Tears burned in the back of my eyes. I had to keep a safe distance from his warm embrace and seductive words. The past year had been really, really hard. No family. No true friends…at least not in the beginning. And no real comforts.
Burying my face in my hands, I fought the urge to cry. Why did Mason have the ability to tear down my carefully constructed walls? Living paycheck-to-paycheck was stressful. Beyond anything I’d ever imagined while I’d lived in my rose-colored world and romanticized living on my own. But what my brother would never understand was that difficult as it was to support myself, it was still preferable to going home. Going home meant facing my father, and an arranged marriage. That was not an option.
Mason followed me back into the main living area and glanced into the tiny kitchen. My cat skittered through his legs and took a flying leap to land in the middle of my lap. Brandy curled in my lap and eyed Mason warily.
My brother returned the sentiment. His brow rose. “Since when do you own a cat?”
“Since I moved to Chicago,” I said, rubbing behind her ears. “She keeps me company.”
“Because you’re lonely.”
My head snapped up. “Because I live alone. Those are two different things.”
Mason strode over to the single set of windows overlooking the back courtyard. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and shook his head without muttering a word. Though he didn’t need to, because his thoughts were written all over his face.
This wasn’t the way I envisioned my reunion with my brother. I had to get things back on track. He shouldn’t pity me. Not when my life was on the precipice of getting better. If only he had waited another month or two to visit me. “Why don’t you come sit down? I’ll tell you about my new job at Midnight Blue. It’s the hottest nightclub in town. Pretty soon I’ll be raking in the dough.”
He eyed the sofa and lifted his brow. “That your bed?”
Glancing from the sofa to my brother, I felt the tug of a frown on my mouth and wondered where he was going with his question. How could I reassure him that everything was fine? I was fine. “It’s quite comfortable and practical. There’s a storage unit under the chaise for my bedding and pillows.”
“And when you have guests over, that’s what they sit on?” he asked, barely keeping the disdain from his tone of voice.
Oh, my God. He was such a snob and had no clue how ninety-five percent of Americans lived. Okay, maybe that wasn’t accurate. Arguably most Americans had a bedroom and a bed, but studio apartments were normal in large cities. I would not feel ashamed of my home. It was lovely.
Moving onto the sofa, I pointed to my reading chair. “Sit!”
A satisfied grin tugged at his lips and he sat. “Midnight Blue. Hottest nightclub in town, you say?”
I nodded and pulled my legs under me on the couch. “I’ve only been there a week, but I’m loving it so far. Everyone who’s anyone is clamoring for an invitation from the owner to The Lounge. It’s an exclusive bar on the second floor.”
“Sounds like something I’d like to see while I’m here.” Mason lifted his brow. “Can you get me an invitation? You know the owner?”
I swallowed hard and dammit if my face didn’t flush beet red at his innocent question. ’Cause there was nothing innocent about my relationship with Damon. My body trembled at the memory of his mouth tasting me…everywhere. Hell yes, I knew the owner.
“We’ve met,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on Brandy as I stroked her back. “I’m not comfortable asking. I’ve only worked there a week.”
I ventured a glance at my brother. He was watching me closely as he tapped his fingers against his knee. “Who owns it? Maybe I know someone who knows him. Or her.”
Shit. How did I dig myself into this hole? The last person I wanted my brother to meet right now was my boss. But there was no way to avoid his question. “Damon Baxter.”
Mason pulled out his smartphone and began tapping away. I closed my eyes and groaned. When I finally gathered my courage and met his gaze, he sniggered.
“Looks familiar.”
“Fuck you,” I said with a smirk.
“Not me.” He returned with a grin. “But maybe you did him. Is that why you don’t want to ask?”
My jaw dropped and I covered my face. This was so not the conversation I wanted to be having with my brother. Though I hadn’t given him enough credit earlier. He wasn’t shocked or freaking out. Far from it. When it became clear I had no intention of answering his question, he took mercy on me.
“Look,” Mason said, running a hand through his thick, black hair as he stood. “I’m going to settle into my hotel room. I’m staying at the W on Lakeshore. I’ll be back at seven thirty to pick you up for dinner.” His gaze traveled over me and he sighed. “You look like you could use a decent meal. Wear a nice dress. I assume you still own one?”
It amazed me sometimes how he could flip from lighthearted humor to borderline asshole in seconds. I opened my mouth, ready to let him have it. He held up his hand with a fierce look. “No arguments.” He barked. “You can let me spoil you while I’m here. What are big brothers for?”
He’d reached his limit and I knew better than to push him over the edge. Setting Brandy aside, I jumped out of my seat and threw my arms around his neck. “Okay,” I said, pecking him on the cheek. He was trying hard to let me live on my own and by my own rules, and I loved him for it. “Can’t wait to see where you take me.”
*
A thrill of excitement filled my belly as the elevator whisked us up seventy flights to the top of Lake Point Tower where we would dine at Cité. I hadn’t had the pleasure yet, but the view from the ceiling to floor windows was said to be unparalleled. How could it not be with the Chicago skyline on display?
My foot tapped against the floor and I glanced at Mason with a nervous smile. He had suggested the restaurant on a whim, and as I scanned the curious faces sharing the elevator ride up, I wasn’t feeling confident of securing a table. My brother didn’t share in my jitters, because he said money talked. And Mason had a lot of money.
“You look beautiful tonight, Sammy,” he said, taking in the vibrant purple of my knee-length dress. And then his eyes narrowed on me. “But you’re showing off more skin than I like for my sister.”
I glanced down at my sleeveless dress with a critical eye. The silky fabric clung to my curves and the V-neck plunged deep on my chest. Even so, the dress was elegant and appropriate for an evening at a fine restaurant. With strappy silver high heels giving me a vertical boost, I could look Mason in the eyes without cra
ning my neck.
“Meaning you’d be perfectly happy with it if I was your date?” I teased. “Stop acting like an overprotective brother.”
He winked and flashed me a boyish grin. “And you’re too thin,” he added. “Promise me you’ll eat more than a salad.”
“You think I’m stupid? Tonight’s on you, so I’m ordering the most expensive steak on the menu. Plus dessert.”
He chuckled and guided me out of the elevator with his hand resting on the middle of my back. Mouth-watering aromas lingered in the air along with the soft banter of a restaurant full of delighted guests. We were in for a fun night.
“Let me guess.” Mason ventured with a smirk. “You’re ordering Crème—”
The words died on his lips, and my gaze followed his to the elevator on the opposite side of the restaurant entrance where two gentleman stepped out with their heads bowed in deep conversation. By the cut of their hand-tailored suits and formal ties, I assumed they were here on business. What had caught Mason’s attention that was so distracting? I let my gaze travel up to their faces and froze.
The floor dropped out from under me, and I grasped Mason’s arm for support.
CHAPTER 6
Playing Games
I stumbled back toward our elevator, and in my haste to flee, I caught my heel on something. A woman’s howl of pain rang in my ear. The two men exiting the elevator glanced up and their surprise at seeing me registered simultaneously. Blood drained from my face, leaving me feeling cold and empty inside. It was too late to slip away unnoticed.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, turning to apologize face-to-face with the woman I’d trampled on. “Please forgive me. I should’ve looked where I was going.”
“No real harm done,” she replied with a grimace.
Taking a deep breath, I returned to Mason’s side. My gaze was drawn to a hint of silver threading in Damon’s tie that glinted in the soft lighting of the Cité foyer. It was the same blue and grey tie I’d watched him pull from his dresser as I sat naked in his bed. The memory brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. I lifted my face to meet his brazen stare.
His full lips tugged slightly upward in the right corner of his mouth for a fraction of a second, and I knew his thoughts had strayed in the same direction. The space between us crackled with energy, sending tingles of anticipation skittering across my skin. There was no denying I felt drawn to this man in a primal way. My fingers itched to grab him by the lapel of his jacket and pull his lips down on mine. Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.
His companion cleared his throat, breaking Damon’s magnetic hold on me. My mouth felt suddenly dry, and I steeled my back, preparing to face my ex-fiancé. What the hell was he doing here with Damon? His stare was equally as commanding, but dark as a starless night sky and burning with molten desire. He still wants me. A wave of nausea hit me hard and for the second time in a matter of minutes, I tightened my grip on Mason’s arm.
“Samantha.”
They said my name in unison, as if in stereo, and I prayed the floor would open and swallow me up. The tight set of Giovanni’s jaw betrayed his irritation. He had seen the way I devoured Damon with my eyes only seconds before. And now he knew we shared a connection.
I didn’t flinch or react to my ex-fiancé. And from the corner of my eye I noted Damon displayed only mild curiosity to the news that his companion and I were on a first name basis.
“Gentlemen,” my brother said, stepping forward and placing his body in front of me. The gesture was not lost on Damon. He pressed his lips into a thin line and turned questioning midnight blue eyes on me. The pressure was too much. I averted my gaze, taking sudden interest in the crowd gathered around the maître d’.
Mason addressed Damon first. “It appears you’re acquainted with my sister. I’m Mason Rayne. And you are?”
God bless my brother for playing stupid. I could’ve kissed him right then and there. My eyes flashed toward Damon’s and I pleaded silently. Please keep it professional. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and nibbled as the air grew warm around me.
“Damon Baxter,” he replied, grasping my brother’s hand in a firm, albeit brief, handshake. “Owner of Midnight Blue. I’m Samantha’s boss.”
He didn’t offer any further information about our connection, and I let a slow breath of air seep out of me. My brother’s curiosity was piqued, and I didn’t relish explaining why Damon had dropped me off at home. But no one needed to know the nature of our relationship right now. Least of all the man standing rigid next to Damon. His barely restrained displeasure was palpable.
“Giovanni,” my brother said, pumping his hand while clasping his shoulder in a firm grip. “What a surprise to see you in Chicago. Here on business?”
Giovanni replied with a curt nod. “But I would have come more often to mix business with pleasure had I known Samantha was in town.” He branded me with one look and lowered his voice. “How are you, dolcezza? It’s been way too long.”
“Fine, thank you.” I bit out the sharp retort, struggling to maintain my composure. The nerve of that man. Dolcezza. I was not his sweetheart! “Please don’t let us keep you.” I squeezed Mason’s arm, avoiding eye contact with Damon at all costs. “It looks rather busy tonight. Let’s find another restaurant?”
“Come now,” Giovanni said in a conciliatory tone. “The owner is a personal friend of mine. You should stay. Enjoy the food and the view. It’s spectacular.”
He strode to the maître d’ without waiting for our response and pulled him aside. Closing my eyes for a moment, I breathed deeply through my nose. I could handle this. Mason held himself together—like the true businessman he was—and engaged Damon in small talk while we waited. A minute later, Giovanni waved us over. A waiter stood nearby with four menus, prepared to escort us to our tables.
“Perhaps you will both join us for dessert after we’ve concluded our business?” Giovanni asked with one hand resting casually in his pant pocket. “I would love to hear your impressions of Chicago, Samantha.”
How could we refuse after he’d secured a table for us? He was a master manipulator. My brother rescued me from having to respond.
“Perhaps.” Mason clasped Giovanni on the shoulder one last time. “Thanks for arranging for our table. I appreciate it. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Damon and acknowledged him with a flick of his chin. “Nice to meet you. Samantha is a hard worker, and an excellent bartender. Don’t let the competition sink their talons into her.” And then he winked.
I groaned inside at his thinly veiled double entendre. Was this his way of letting me know he had put two and two together already? Mason could be a real pain in my ass sometimes. Especially because he knew Giovanni was not the competition. Anymore.
“Not a chance,” Damon said, catching my gaze and smiling. “Enjoy your dinner, Samantha.”
I nodded and turned to follow the waiter on unsteady legs. The way Damon said my name was like a caress. Soft and warm. He shouldn’t be able to make my knees wobbly with a simple gaze and a couple of words. But he did, because his rich, baritone voice brought back sizzling memories of the naughty things he’d said to me while I lie naked in his arms.
The waiter directed us through a maze of tables covered in pristine white table cloths. We stopped at a table for two situated next to the exterior windows. City lights twinkled against the black skyline for what seemed like hundreds of miles. I gazed in wonder as I sank into the soft leather chair held out for me by the waiter.
As we enjoyed our courses of oysters, lobster bisque, and filet mignon with a side of wild mushrooms and asparagus, I was painfully aware of Giovanni’s occasional stare from across the room. The bastard had arranged for the waiter to seat me on the side of the table facing him.
Mason filled me in on the latest news about our friends and family back home. He made me laugh with stories of our favorite patrons at our family restaurant and bar. I didn’t have a childhood memory that didn’t include Let It Rayne, though our
father had only acquired it when Mason was a little boy. We both practically grew up there and loved hassling the chefs and later the bartenders and wait staff.
Mason and I bantered back and forth about my new job as well. His interest had increased tenfold after the encounter outside the elevators. But he had held his tongue throughout dinner when it came to Damon, keeping his promise to let me open up at my own pace. Or perhaps he took pity on me after the surprise meeting with my ex-fiancé. Although my brother didn’t know the full details behind our breakup, he knew it hadn’t ended on good terms, and he respected my wishes not to discuss the matter further.
How could I tell Mason the truth when I knew it would crush him? He would feel duty bound to defend my honor. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Giovanni was too powerful in the business community. He would destroy Mason if he felt threatened. And I knew with certainty that my father would let him.
Before I knew it, our waiter was offering us a dessert menu and requesting that we join Giovanni and Damon at their table. I glanced out the window and chewed on the inside of my cheek, gathering my strength.
“We don’t have to join them,” Mason said, reaching over the table to grab my hand. “Do you want to leave?”
He didn’t offer to stay and have dessert at our table alone. We both knew that wasn’t an option. A small vice squeezed around my heart. God, I missed him. He loved me so much. “It’ll be bad for business if you don’t accept his offer. I can endure thirty minutes of his company if you’re there.”
“Fuck business,” Mason growled. “Your happiness is more important. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I can see you’re distressed at the idea of sitting with him.”
For the first time that evening, I was happy that I was facing Giovanni and not my brother. Mason’s reaction would have caused more than a raised eyebrow.
Breaking His Rules Page 5
